9 Tales for Halloween
by Mable
Summary: The Stitchpunks celebrate Halloween by sitting down together and telling scary stories. Each Stitchpunk has a tale to offer. Some of which might be more frightening than others, some in unexpected ways, but they're just stories... Right?


**Mable: Here we are, my Halloween project! It's not super polished, but at least I managed to get it finish. ^-^ I don't own 9, Enjoy!**

* * *

 _ **9 Tales for Halloween**_

"Let's tell some scary stories." Nine's voice suddenly announced as he sat down on one of the books. The Stitchpunks weren't very familiar with most human holidays, but they were trying to celebrate one in particular; Halloween. In an attempt to celebrate they had gotten together in the Library, made a bonfire on a plate, and had been discussing what the holiday was based on. Mostly simple things until Nine suddenly announced his idea. "Scary stories?" Five's brow raised, "Alright, umm… Which ones?" He glanced towards the others, "Do we even know any?"

Nine chuckled at this, "We don't need to _know_ any. We'll just make up our own!" He encouraged and there was a slight mix amongst the Stitchpunks. Though most seemed either positive or unsure than actually dismissive. "Come on. It'll be fun!" Nine continued to pry and Seven smiled at his eagerness, "I'm willing. I think it's worth getting at least a little bit of a scare. That's basically a big part of Halloween, right?" She looked to Two who nodded eagerly, "Oh yes! Ah, this would be a great way to celebrate the holiday properly! I don't see any immediate downside."

"What about the twins?" One suddenly quipped, "They'll be frightened. Six has nightmares already. This is bound to go wrong." Nine sent him a crooked smile, "Things are already bound to go wrong when we get out of bed in the morning. This is the least of our concerns." Two was quick to agree and looked to One who he was sitting beside, "Loosen your stitches a bit, One! We only get to properly do this one night a year." The Leader pursed his lips and looked in the other direction towards Eight. The Guard was smiling to himself; One knew he was already concocting some sort of horror story in his head.

"Well… Fine." He gave in, "Fine, fine! We'll go by our numbers…" He looked around the fire before admitting in defeat, "Which means I will begin." One started to stand and a few of the Stitchpunks gave eager smiles. Five even gave a light clap of encouragement. The Leader cleared his voice box, "Yes, well… Well I have a particularly frightening legend. This is one spread throughout history and originates about a creature draining the life out of others to sate themselves." Seven quipped in with, "You mean the Fabrication Machine?" One frowned pointedly at her, "No, not the Machine. Not a Machine at all."

He hummed and paused before adding, "In fact… It was remarkably Stitchpunk-like in the end… So much so that its victims never realized until it was too late. I call this story; Bloodthirst."

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning filled the air and thunder shook the ground. It was only by sheer luck that Nine arrived at the doorway of a fine cathedral that he managed to find. He brayed on the door loudly, waiting for some sort of reply, and finally the creaking door opened. "Yes, hello?" An older, crackling voice asked, and Nine beamed a smile, "Yes, hello! I'm a traveler passing through, but my car broke down. Is there any way I could use your phone?" The older male was very short with him, "I don't have a phone, regrettably. I'm sorry."

He started to close the door when Nine caught it. "Wait, please, could I at least stay the night?" The older male grumbled, "Can you not sleep in the car?" The younger sighed softly and continued desperately, "I can't. It's too cold. Please, I'll take anything!" Finally with a huff the door was opened and revealed a neatly dressed male. His slanted optics focused on Nine as he allowed him inside. "You may stay the night, but you must leave first thing in the morning!" Still the zippered male greeted him with a warm smile and eagerly entered in.

"I promise! Thank you so much, Mister…?" He pried. "My name is One and this is my Sanctuary." He closed and locked the heavy door behind them. "Funny, it didn't say on any of the maps that there was a Cathedral in these mountains… You'd think that this would be an interesting place to see." One shook his head, "It is… Closed to the public. Other than myself you are the first Stitchpunk to step into this place in many years. This old building wouldn't know what to do with visitors."

He started to lead the younger down a hall and Nine suddenly realized what he had said, "Wait… You mean you're here alone?" He was baffled that there could only be a single being living in the large place. "Indeed I am," One responded. "I am the guardian of this Cathedral." He finished with that and led the traveler into a small kitchen. There he sat Nine at a tiny table and prepared him a simple dinner of bread, boiled potatoes, and salted meats. Nine was very thankful regardless of how simple the meal was. However, mid-way through his meal he became curious, and began to speak.

"I must thank you for letting me stay here." Before Nine could continue, One interrupted, "Yes, and there are a few rules I must discuss with you." He was very firm, "Do not leave your room after you go in, ignore noises you here, and don't go peeking around." Nine stared at him and One grumbled, "I know that look…" The younger defended himself, "I won't go looking around. I'm sure you don't want me going through your things." The older pondered this for a moment and then shook his head, "No, no. Curiosity will overtake you. I will have to show you so that you can resist temptation."

He checked the large clock on the wall and murmured fearfully, "We don't have much time… Midnight is nearly upon us… Come with me." He stood and beckoned the younger. Nine was nearly done with his meal so he brought the bread and followed the caretaker of the cathedral down a separate hall. It was long and lacked windows or door, except for one at the very end. It was locked with a bolt and he gestured to it. "Inside this door sleeps a monstrous creature. Every night at Midnight it awakens and seeks someone to feed off of… And its prey are Stitchpunks. It drains their oil through a bite and drinks it."

Nine flinched a bit at the explanation, but still looked a little skeptic. "I have been living here alone, watching this Cathedral, keeping it imprisoned as best as I can, but it plots to escape." One murmured and followed with, "Inside of your room is a thick, heavy lock. Close your door, lock it, and don't come out until no earlier than six in the morning." Nine nodded and promised the older male. He wasn't sure if he believed the older's tale or not, but shortly after when he was led into his bedroom he noticed how determined One was. The bedroom was nice and he was comfortable.

Regardless of whether Nine believed One or not, he bolt locked the door securely, and tried to fall asleep. Around the time or Midnight, however, Nine was awoken by a mix of curiosity refusing sleep and from a few dull noises from out in the hall. It sounded like something shuffling around and he wondered if it was still One. Finally Nine couldn't hide anymore and left the room to investigate what was happening outside. He looked around the hall and could see nothing, looked through the front foyer and heard nothing, and eventually headed back towards the door.

It was still locked tightly and no noise was coming from it. It certainly didn't sound like anything was attempting to escape, so Nine found his curiosity grow. There wasn't a keyhole or window on the door to look through. Pressing his audio receptor against the door brought on no sort of indication of what was occurring. He tried the bolt lock, but it didn't move. Yet when he tried to open the door it freely swung open. "…What?" Nine asked in confusion and looked at the mechanism, "This… This is fake! It just looks like a bolt lock, but the door doesn't have a lock at all!" He frowned and looked back down the hall.

"So it was a trick! Just a fake story to get a rise!" For a few moments Nine prepared to storm back to his room and get to sleep. That was, until a new thought passed. "…Unless… He was trying to keep me from looking around… He would scare me away from this door and into the room- He's probably done this to other travelers. Either to scare them off quickly or to keep them from looking further." Now Nine couldn't help himself and continued to open the door. He peered down into the dark stairwell.

Footsteps from somewhere back down the hall lured him to keep going. Nine slipped inside and pulled the door closed to hide that he was down there. Most likely One wouldn't even notice he was out of bed. Then he continued down into the room under the cathedral. What he saw shocked him to the metal. There was a large room that looked like catacombs. Coffins were stacked into the walls and a circle of candles alit the room in a pale glow. In the center was a much larger and luxurious coffin, one that looked like it was being taken much better care of.

It was larger, newer, and Nine watched it as he moved over towards the wall. He began to search along the coffins, but there weren't any names are labels. These coffins were shabbily made, quickly nailed together and stacked, and Nine was uneasy. "It's like there were too many bodies buried too quickly…" He was starting to piece it together when he approached the large coffin and finally opened it. To is alarm it was empty; but filled and cushioned with velvety interior, a blanket, a pillow; it was more than a coffin, it was a bed. Suddenly Nine stumbled back only to hear a voice on the stairs.

"I warned you." Nine spun around to face none other than One. Instead of the crouched, frightened old man before he now stood tall, eyeing him down with a smirk. "But you didn't listen." Nine was horrified as the older approached, "W-What are you?! Did you kill all of these people?!" One pointed a finger at him and answered with, "I told you there was a beast and I told you to stay in your room, but you let your curiosity get the better of you." Suddenly he opened his mouth and long, metal fangs poked out. Nine gasped in horror, "Y-You're a vampire!"

"Indeed I am." The older replied and Nine grabbed a candelabra, swinging it at him, "Stay back! Stay away from me!" The beast wasn't frightened in the slightest, "Hold still, boy, and maybe I'll consider making you my apprentice. For now…" He reached under his cape and pulled out a pocket watch. He checked it with a hum, "Now's the time to say your prayers…" Nine's back slammed against one of the walls of coffins a One released the pocket watch. It swung on its chain and disappeared under his cape. "Time's up." Then he leapt at the Stitchpunk…

* * *

"A few weeks later the car was found and they went to ask at the Cathedral." One explained to the others. "They encountered only an older gentleman who explained that he saw nobody pass by… His young ward with him also agreed." With that the Leader plopped back down on the book and there came a rouse of clapping. "That's the spirit!" Nine encouraged in delight and the twins flickered to each other in curiosity, having heard about vampires before. One turned to Two with almost a smug look, "It's your turn, Two. I hope you have something in mind already."

The Inventor chuckled and accepted the challenge, standing to his feet. "I certainly do! Though I must warn you, the tale I am about to tell you is a bit…" He paused to find the right word, "Morbid." Eight perked greatly and One sent him a look. "Not too morbid, but a tad disturbing, and I wouldn't tell you all this story unless I was certain that you needed to hear it… And hear how obsession can go beyond what you could imagine…" He was straight faced, but honestly having a great time play along and could already see the anticipation on the others' faces.

"I call this tale; The Noises in the Walls…"

* * *

Two was growing more concerned with the noises in his home. As he sat down into his armchair, shifting to get comfortable, he thought back to the evening beforehand. "I didn't get any sleep last night." He explained to Five and One who were both seated in other chairs in the living room. Neither of the two lived with him, so when nighttime came they weren't here to experience the noises. Five looked concerned, "What was it? Was your leg acting up again?" Two shook his head, "No. It was the creaking again. I swear it sounds like there is someone walking around at night."

"Probably rats." One remarked. The Leader had only heard the creaking once when he stayed over and because it was so light he deemed it as animals. Two was frustrated with it though, as it was the only time that the other Stitchpunks managed to hear the noises. Whenever Five visited they went entirely silent for the night. "No, not rats." Two insisted, "I put a mousetraps into the pantry in front of the crawlspace a few days ago and it caught nothing." He fidgeted and shifted at the lumps in the armchair while One tsked, "And I saw that. That's not a mousetrap, that's a cage. It would fool nothing."

"It's a humane mousetrap." Five explained, "It catches the mouse so you can put it out." One waved the thought off, "It would just come back inside!" The Inventor now forced a chuckle, "If it was foolish enough to get caught I would doubt it would be smart enough to find its way back inside, right?" The Leader hummed at the thought as the clock began to chime. It was growing increasingly late and turning eleven thirty. "It's about time for me to go." Five quipped, "…Unless you want me to stay?" He was growing concerned, but Two waved him off, "No, no. I won't keep you. Drive safely."

The Healer stood and headed for the door, One heading along as well. "Two, you need to get an exterminator in here." Two nodded sluggishly, "Yes… I know." He straightened and stood to follow the two. "I'll walk you out." At the front door they said their goodbyes and Two was alone in the house. Almost immediately after he shut the door he heard the creaking. It started from the sitting room; he could hear it through the wall. He hurried over to the wall and listened, trying to hear if the creaking was in the wall or in the room. It was definitely in the room and he hurried down the hall.

By time he made it into the sitting room the creaking had stopped. The last place he heard it was beside the bookcase against the wall, but the bookcase was undisturbed. Unlike Two who was very disturbed and soon found himself leaving the sitting room. The next few hours involved him pacing and listening, moving the mouse cage in the sitting room doorway, and then eventually trudging off to bed. He collapsed on his bed and fell asleep for the rest of the night. Thankfully it was a quiet night and he spent the rest of it in a sense of mock peace.

Then next day, however, Two became a bit more determined. "I can't keep going on like this!" He insisted, "If this is rats then fine, but I just have to see and know. I'm fine with rats, but these noises cannot be from rats alone!" He concocted a clever plan and laid out a plate of meats, cheeses, and crackers in the sitting room and left the house. Hours later he returned and hoped that he would find some of the food nibbled on, therefor confirming the suspicion of rats in his house. Yet the food wasn't touched at all and Two was becoming very frustrated with the situation.

That evening he noticed something odd as well. When he sat in his usually lumpy armchair he noticed that it was softer and flatter. " _First there was too much stuffing and now there's none at all?!"_ He frowned and shifted in the now empty chair, _"Goodness me, it seems like everything is off!... Would rats steal stuffing? I suppose so, but how without making a hole?"_ He straightened and stood, humming to himself as he considered opening the back of the chair to look. This used to be his favorite armchair, but now it was rather unpleasant, and he was more curious than hesitant.

Before he could, however, he heard movement in the hallway and hurried out to listen. It was against the wall to the backyard which made it more confusing; it was definitely coming from inside of the walls. Finally Two was starting to believe One's claims; it seemed to only make sense that it was rats. Yet Two was suddenly remembering the crawlspace that was accessible from the kitchen. He grabbed his candle hat and the cage before heading into the kitchen. The crawlspace was held closed by a simple wooden trap door in the wall, latched with a padlock. Or it used to be. Only now did Two notice it was missing.

"… _Maybe I took it off?"_ He mentally questioned as he opened the entrance and squeezing inside, climbing along the small space. At first everything looked normal, but he soon arrived at something he didn't expect. Two hadn't ever climbed into the crawlspace this far and was now realizing that it was much further than he expected it to go. It even opened wider, allowing him to stand. " _There's so much space here! How could this even be?"_ He started to creep in deeper onto to find something disturbing; there was trash in the crawlspace. Empty food wrappers and bags, cans, bottles; it didn't look like rats, though.

There were also multiple holes in the wall. When Two peeked through them he could see that they showed into the house at different spaces. Usually it was in odd angles of the wall or partially obscured by furniture, which explained why he didn't notice them before. By now Two was starting to realize that something terrible was going on, but it was his next discovery that was the most alarming. Two noticed a loose part of the wall and pushed out only for it to swing open into the sitting room. " _Oh dear Creator…"_ Two gasped audibly and thought mentally. He realized he was in a secret passage.

" _Rats?! No, not rats, there's someone in my house!"_ Two cried out and shivered in horror. He stepped into the sitting room cautiously and listened carefully. There was creaking again in the hall and he slowly crept to the door, turning the lever on his hat and snuffing his candle. He peeked around the corner only to see a shadow near his bedroom. He gasped in alarm as it started to fade into his room. For the first time in years Two felt absolute fear and snuck out into the foyer to his phone. Less than ten minutes later the door was opened and both One and Eight stepped in.

"Where is he?" One was actually growling while Eight was silently scowling. "I saw him back towards my bedroom." One nodded to Eight who raised his knife and started into the hall. "Oh, Eight, be careful! He could be armed, or-!" One put a hand on Two's shoulder to silence him before following, holding the Inventor close to him. They got mid-way down the hall when Eight appeared. "There's no one in there. The window's open, he must have left." Two exhaled in relief and One ruffled his cape, "Then he'll be back. We need to call the police immediately." Then he looked to Two.

"Where's the entrance into the crawlspace?" Two led him into the sitting room and pointed the opening out. One went to investigate while Two's attention shifted to the armchair. "… _There was something kept in there. Maybe supplies? That must have been the lumpiness I felt."_ He looked to Eight with determination, "Slice open the back of my armchair." Eight raised a brow but seemed compliant while One spun around to face him with shock. "Your arm- Two, that's absurd!" He sighed and moved in closer, "Look, Two, I understand that what you're going through is terrifying, but you must be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable!" Two argued and pointed to the chair, "Eight, slice open the back!" As the Guard approached Two looked towards One who didn't look impressed. "He's been keeping something in my chair. I know because it was uncomfortable when it was in there and flat when it was out." Before the Leader could protest, they could hear Eight pull open the chair and gasp, "What the hell?..." One looked over and could see it before Two could. Horror filled his face and Two glanced over before it gripped him as well.

Inside of the chair was a carved opening large enough for a Stitchpunk to sit in. There were more food wrappers inside and this time it was certainly not rats. Two took the shock terribly; he fainted on the spot. He was in bed for the rest of the evening and most of the next day as the police came and checked the scene. The crawlspaces and such were closed, but no one could be found. One stayed with Two the entire time, barely leaving his side in the bed, while Two suffered a brief period of fear and disbelief. After another day Two began to return to normal tasks while still staying fearful.

The man wasn't found and so One soon decided to invite Two to his home. Five did as well, but One's home was bigger, and so the Inventor gladly agreed. One afternoon they were moving things out. "What did you ever do with the armchair?" Five had asked curiously as they worked on the bedroom furniture. Eight was moving out a bookcase and One was folding blankets and sheets. "The police have it still." Two explained, "Just in case they can find the… Him. Which I'm fine with." Five nodded and didn't ask as One handed over the blankets and sheets stacked together.

He headed out, Eight soon after him, and One approached the bed to move the mattress. "I don't see why we even need to take this old mattress. We shouldn't even pretend that we're not going to be sleeping together." Two blushed at the comment and chuckled, "Ah… Well perhaps we should leave it. The mattress was always lumpy anyway…" He trailed off and grew stiff. A few seconds passed before One looked to him in alarm, "Two…" Two inched towards the bed and grabbed onto the mattress. "…Let's take a look." One didn't want to, but nodded, and they tugged the mattress off.

Just like with the armchair there was an opening in the bed. Unlike the armchair it was currently filled. It was filled with the body of the deceased male who had been creeping through Two's house.

* * *

"He had thought it clever to hide in the bed so that they would think he fled, but wasn't able to sneak out before the two laid down together, not realizing that the extra weight was going to lower his air supply. He suffocated." Two explained to the group of uneasy Stitchpunks, "However, one must ask themselves if he suffocated from the bed, or suffocated from the growing obsession that overwhelmed him." Two explained with a nod and a clever smile. The others eagerly clapped as he sat down once more. Now the twins stood and hurried off to get something.

"Two, that was one of the most disturbing things I have ever heard." One remarked before scooting further away, mostly for show. "I'm starting to wonder what you do when you stay awake all night." Both Five and Two chuckled at this while Seven retorted, "Of course you would know, One. Considering how much you're in or around Two's bed." One sputtered and blurted out with a, "That's certainly not true!" Two was holding back a blush as well in embarrassment. Shortly after the twins returned with some papers and photos, laying one of the photos down of an old house.

"What's this?" Nine asked as he moved closer and crouched down to look at the photo. It was an old house cut out of a newspaper article and beneath it was a quote. "The farmhouse is now left abandoned after the tragedy." He read before looking to the twins, "Tragedy?" Both of them nodded before they turned to a white paper on the floor that they had brought. Three took ahold of Four whose optics alit and began to show a mix of articles, words, and scenes on the floor.

* * *

It was a tragic case in every possible way. So far what was believed to have happened was that the father, a pious man who ran the family farm, had gone insane and murdered his family. He shot his wife, his children, and then hung himself promptly afterwards in the back yard. The crime scene had already been investigated and everything had really been completed, except for the twins' mission. The twins, Three and Four, had been sent to catalogue the current condition of the house and as they wandered to the front steps there was already a gloomy feeling in the air.

They carried little with them; save that Four carried a camera with a large flash and Three carried a notebook to scribble down what they saw. As they unlocked the front door and opened it a gust of dust filled air hit them both. After a fit of coughing between them both Four raised the camera and took a quick picture of the living room. It was briefly illuminated and for that moment felt much less gloomy. Three followed by writing down, "Living room furniture is still here." She then looked to the light switch and flipped it curiously, but the lights failed to respond.

"The power is out in living room." Four casually whispered to her sister that it was probably out over the entire house and Three agreed. She continued by explaining that she had to report everything in the house, so she had to be sure to be precise, and Four nodded in understanding. Everything in the living room seemed fine and the two continued along into the next room. Though in the way into the next room they heard a low creaking; they expected that it was from the floorboards and didn't realize it was from the rocking chair back in the living room.

As they entered the kitchen and dining room they tried the light again and this time it came on, though was flickering with static. Three jotted it down as Four took a picture. She then approached the fridge with her heavy camera and opened it. Immediately she was caught by the scent and sight of moldy food inside. Four winced back in distress and covered her mouth with her arm. A few moment passed before she dared to take a photo of the inside. Three, meanwhile, looked down into the sink before turning the faucet on. Some rusty water poured out and down into the drain.

Both of them soon finished and headed into the conjoined dining room. The table was bare, save a small, empty box of shotgun shells. Three looked at them in disturbance before flinching at a sudden flash of light from the camera. She looked to Four with a frown. Her sister shrugged it off as it was their task and started to lead her to another door. Opening it they could see that it led into a basement and Four frowned now, looking to Three and insisting that they didn't need to go down. Three playfully inquired if her twin was scared and Four denied it.

That was, until a gust of dusty air seemed to blow out of the basement. Both of the twins suddenly felt uneasy and silently agreed to put the basement off; Three slowly shutting the door. Instead, they moved back into the living room and climbed the stairs to the second floor, which creaked underneath their slight weight. As Four stepped into the hall on the second floor she took a quick picture which briefly lit their way. The only light in was from a dusty window at the end of the hall and when Three tried the light switch, to no surprise, there was again no response.

There were only three rooms on the second floor; a bathroom, a bedroom that the children stayed in, and a master bedroom at the end of the other side of the hall. To make better time Three and Four separately tackled the bathroom and the bedroom, as they were starting to get uneasy. In the bathroom Three immediately checked the sink and turned it on to find, again, rusty water. Yet as she began to jot down the finding something peculiarly odd happened. The water grew darker and thicker until it was like oil coming through the pipes.

Three tried to rationalize it. Some thoughts made sense; perhaps there was machine oil leaking into the well. Others were more outlandish; perhaps it wasn't oil at all, but instead was ink. She tried to turn the faucet off, but no matter how much she twisted or turned the flow stayed the same. As the Librarian turned to look towards the door her optics caught something else. Across from the door was a bathtub and the dim light from the hall fell on it. From this angle Three could see that it was filled with either water cast in shadow or more of the oil liquid.

What was more disturbing was what looked like a lump in the tub. As though something large was laying in it, like a body. Three trembled and clutched her notebook to her chest, unable to write what she was seeing. Slowly she began to back towards the door and stepped out again into the hallway, closing it quickly and blocking it out. Meanwhile, in the children's bedroom, Four found something strange of her own. At first the tiny room seemed innocent enough and as she passed through the center of it beside the small beds she found nothing odd or out of the ordinary.

The room was alit by a window that faced the field out behind the house. Because of the lighting she stood near the window and took a picture of the rest of the room, so that there wasn't any reflection. As her light alit the room in a brief flash she was confused to nothing something odd. There had been two shadowed areas on the bed that seemed to briefly appear when her light flickered. She blinked, looked down to her camera, and tested it again. Just as before she could see two shadows on the bed, though they were now darker. Still confused and hoping for a rational reason, she took a third picture.

Now the shadows were actually black and were towering taller, nearly brushing the roof, and Four filled with dread as she realized that they weren't dissipating. In horror she dashed to the door and into the hall where she bumped into Three. They quickly recounted what happened and by the end were quite terrified. Both came to the same conclusion; the house had to be haunted. Three even wrote down in her notebook, "The house is indeed haunted!" They considered their options before realizing that there was only the master bedroom left. Fearful Three pointed out that all they had to do was peek in.

Four agreed; then they could leave and say that they honestly checked every room. Three pointed out that they skipped the basement. Four shrugged it off and insisted that the basement wasn't as important as the master bedroom. Finally the two started to head down the hall together, holding hands in dread as they reached the last door and pushed it open. Inside was a simple bedroom with a double bed for a couple. They stared in for a few minutes before Three reached in and clicked on the light. It didn't respond, but right after the click there was a noise like a guttural moan from the bed.

Three withdrew her hand quickly as the bed creaked. The bed covers, which were flat on the bed, moved and indented as though something was laying on them. Something invisible was moving down the bed and to the end with a low groan. For a few moments the twins just stared and watched. Then there was a sudden bellow from the form. It was like an enraged or perhaps pained yell of warning. Both Stitchpunks turned and began to run as fast as they could down the hall to the stairs. The heavy footsteps were behind it as they dashed down the steps and into the living room.

Before they could dash out of the door it slammed in their face and they looked back towards the stairs. The invisible footsteps followed behind them and they could see some sort of shade behind them. Suddenly Four remembered another way to go and grabbed her twins' hand before dragging her through the kitchen. As they passed through the working bulb in the kitchen exploded into a shower of glass, causing Four to jump and Three to wince downwards. They arrived at the basement door and Four burst through only to lose her footing and tumble down the flight.

Three gasped in horror, but hearing the footsteps slammed and locked the door behind her, then followed her twin downstairs. She crouched down beside Four in concern. Four managed to get to her knees alright, but looked remorsefully at her now broken camera; the flash hanging by a cord. They quickly got to their feet and looked around until Three noticed a tiny window. She gave Four a boost and the lifted twin opened the window before shoving her camera through and squeezing past. By time she turned around to lift her twin the basement door was broken.

Three jumped high enough that Four caught her wrists and started to lift her. The Stitchpunk was almost out when something grabbed ahold of her ankle. She started to get drug backwards and Four struggled to hold her back. They looked around desperately before both looked to the camera. Four released one of Three's hand to grab it and struggled to get it to work. Three reached out and lifted then aimed the flash behind her. Four pressed the button and the flash into the basement managed to push the shadow back.

Now that she was released, the second twin climbed out and both stood to their feet; clutching their notebook, camera, and each other before running out towards the field. Once they got a good way away they looked back towards the house. Nothing was following them, thankfully, but they were struck by something else. Three pointed to a window higher where two figures were staring out. Four recognized it at the bedroom she was in. They looked like girls as well and got wide smiles on their faces, which opened and then stretched farther and farther open is distorted fashions while their body shriveled underneath.

Three and Four hadn't ran so fast in their life.

* * *

The clapping immediately signaled that their story was a success and both of the twins gave a quick bow. "That was great!" Seven encouraged, "Very creepy, you two!" They looked bashful and Two nodded as well, "Yes, excellent work!" He chuckled and chimed in, "And I must say, I like that our stories are showing a bit of varying spookiness. Something about an old fashioned ghost story it perfect for Halloween!" Five listened to what he said and paused, humming to himself as he thought for a second. Nine looked to him curiously, "You have one, Five?"

"…I think so. " Five encouraged with a smile before standing, "Here, let me help you two." He began to grab the pictures and papers off of the ground. He and the twins moved them off to the side in the Library somewhere, giving Five a little more time to contemplate his story. "Do we wait for him?" One inquired and Nine nodded, "Yeah. Five's got an idea; we'll keep going in number order." Eight now smirked across the fire at Six, "What about you? Got any ideas, Stripes?" 'Stripes' was a teasing nickname that Eight liked to give Six when he wanted to unease him.

Six seemed to hesitate as he had been paying attention to the stories and not to his own turn coming very soon. "Umm… I do." He quickly formulated and Eight chuckled, liking to see him flustered. Now Five appeared again and sat down on the book heavily, "Alright, let's see… So this story's going to be a little different." He explained to the others, "It's creepy, but not- Nothing like the other three, nowhere near as scary. Sort of a different kind of fear." He chuckled a bit with amusement and anxiety, "So… I call it; One Bite."

* * *

"Gah!" Five cried out as he walked straight into the clingy butch of thin strands. He immediately began to swat the web off desperately while stumbling around. Nine and Seven who had somehow dodged the web looked back at him in alarm. Then they both looked a bit amused as Nine wandered over to help Five get the webs off. "Calm down, Five. It's just a spider web." Seven playfully quipped and Five sputtered, "What's a spider doing in the Emptiness anyway?!" Normally Five would be overreacting, but natural animals in the Emptiness were a rarity.

Spiders had seemed to start coming a bit closer to Luxembourg and could be found outside the walls, but a full web inside was shocking. "I think I got it." Nine insisted, "Turn around and let me check your back." Five spun around to reveal a small clump of web on his quiver. Along with a small creature holding on. There was a small, though large to Stitchpunks, spider sitting on the back of Five's shoulder. It was a pale cream color with fuzzy legs that were pulled in close to its body. "Five, don't move." Nine warned and the Healer tensed in dread, "Oh no. What is it?"

The spider shifted slightly on his back, but the one eyed male obviously couldn't feel it. Seven slipped closer before raising her spear beside the spider. "Don't move…" She murmured, but as she set the blade into place the spider flinched and Five let out a soft hiss, "What was that?" Seven suddenly smacked the spider with her spear. It was flung some ways away and landed on the ground before scuttling off somewhere. "There. It's gone." Seven assured and Five felt over his back with a sigh, "It was a spider, wasn't it? Did it bite me?" Seven pursed her lips as she noted that it probably did.

"Maybe… But it isn't noticeable." She insisted and as Nine started to look over the area she added, "It's not like Stitchpunks are susceptible to venom like humans used to be. It's probably nothing." Nine nodded in agreement and Five decided to believe them. With that it was decided that they would head home as they weren't finding anything anyway. They returned to the Sanctuary, the night continued, but by evening Five was starting to feel some discomfort in his shoulder blade. There was a hot, pulsing warmth spreading through it and every time he moved it was stiff.

As such he went to bed early and was forced to lay on his other side as to not irritate the shoulder. However, Five barely got sleep. It pulsed, it moved, and the nagging discomfort somehow managed to persist. The next day was even worse; he could barely move the arm and as he was helping the twins look through a book with Nine he began to realize how heavy his body felt. Tired and pained he collapsed on a book and only now did Nine notice his friend's distress. "Five, you don't look well…" He pointed out in distress and Five tried to wave it off, "I-It's nothing. That bite's just still hurting."

"Still?!" Nine was alarmed by the reveal, "Five, it shouldn't be hurting at all! The spider barely touched you… Here, let me look at it." As he touched his friend's shoulder a surge of pain passed through and Five leapt to his feet, "Ah! Nine, I- I'm fine, I'll live, just… I just need some rest. Maybe I've overdone it." Five tried to rationalize as he pet his injured arm tenderly, "I could've strained something while trying to get the webs off. Delayed strains aren't uncommon or anything… I just need rest." With that he hurried off and returned to his room to sleep it off.

For the next while Nine insistently tried to get his friend some help, but Five found his body too heavy to move, especially his shoulder. The haze of sleep was the only thing to numb the pulsing sensation underneath his burlap and for a while he managed well in simply ignoring it. Unfortunately in the middle of the night Five awoke with a start; a few days after the spider and the agonizing throbbing began. It was with a vengeance, but as he reached back to feel his shoulder he noticed something peculiarly horrifying; it was bigger.

Stitchpunks didn't swell, that was just how it worked, so when he felt the large bump he knew there was trouble. Everyone was asleep, Nine included, but it was fear that drug Five out of his bed. As he headed to Two's room he could feel the soft trembling inside of his shoulder, a shaking and tickling sensation that was marred by the painful pulse. "Two…" He murmured softly as he entered his room, "Two? Are you awake?" At first there was no response in the dark room and the panicked Five considered fleeing back to his room to wake Nine instead.

"Five?" Two's soft voice roused and through the darkness Five's optic caught the Inventor sitting upwards. "Five, my boy, what's the matter?" The Healer came forward and with embarrassment recited the tale of the spider and the injury he was hiding, the entire time Two got out of bed, lit a candle, and approached to feel his shoulder. The shorter male was baffled by the strange lump under his fabric. "This is… Unheard of! I've never seen this sort of thing happen…" He hummed and sadly admitted, "Five, the best thing would probably be for me to open it."

The prospect almost frightened Five, but he agreed with a nod. "Lie down on the cot on your belly." Two instructed and Five did so. The Inventor chose a tiny pair of scissors and approached, "Stay still. This will only hurt a tiny bit." The one eyed male nodded; he was willing to go through whatever to figure out what this was. He turned his head away before feeling Two affectionately pet his back, followed by the soft snipping as his stitches were cut along his shoulder. It was as though something immediately started to rupture out and at first Five was too scared to look.

The twitching and crawling spread along his back as Two gasped and dropped the scissors. "Dear Creator!" He gasped in alarm and then began to brush something rapidly off of Five's back. At this moment Five made the mistake to turn his head to see what was happening. There, spilling out of the small slice on his back, were dozens of tiny spiderlings. They fell to the floor, ran for freedom, got brushed by Two; they were all from inside of his body. Five wasn't able to take the alarm; he screamed and fainted on the spot.

* * *

"It was a terrible experience for him." Five explained to the group, "But there's some good news at least! After the spiders were taken out they didn't come back and he didn't have any lasting problems or anything… Though he was a little afraid to go outside after that, but still!" The Healer smiled and was rewarded with a series of clapping. "Bravo!" Two cheered to him, "Very creepy! I may be checking my bed for spiders tonight!" Now Seven teasingly added in, "You should be checking for One." One frowned at the continuing joke and Two chuckled, "Oh, him being in my bed wouldn't be unusual!"

A few moments of silence commenced.

"…That didn't come out how I intended it to." Two sheepishly announced and One stared it mortification. Nine changed the subject by looking to Six. "Six? Ready?" The Artist abruptly stood, shuffled around, and then faced away from the group. His brows furrowed briefly until his face alit with an idea, followed by a slight satisfied smirk. "I'm ready." He turned towards the group, "I guess… You all probably think I know how an insane asylum works." He almost teased and there were a confused looks and a snicker from Eight. Before the Guard could add a comment Six continued.

"Because I do." He had an excited smile as he walked around the outside of the circle, "And I have a story about one. About a man sent to check on an asylum who got more than he expected." He then looked pointedly at Eight, "He looked a lot like you." Once he was certain the sentence had stuck he continued, "I call the story simply 'The Asylum'."

* * *

Eight turned off his car and stepped out as he stared at the towering asylum just beyond the gate. Recently there had been a slew of complaints about increased noise and families not being able to visit patients because the phones were almost always unanswered. As such, Eight was sent to check out what was going on and get to the bottom of the strange behavior. As he approached the Asylum through the gate, noting that the gate was left unlocked, he could hear the noise already. Hysterical laughing and crying, screaming, noises that shouldn't have been nearly as loud.

He approached the front door and tapped on the intercom radio. "Hello?" He asked through and after a few minutes there was a response, "Hello?... Hello?" Eight fought the urge to roll his optics at the young sounding male voice, "Yeah, I've been sent to check things out. We've been having some complains about noise and lack of answered calls." He tried to recite professionally. A few seconds passed before the male responded. "Alright! Give me a second to get down there." He didn't ask for proof or anything which confused Eight somewhat.

The Guard sat there for a few moments until a smaller male Stitchpunk appeared. "Good afternoon!" He chirped, "We… We weren't expecting you." Eight raised a brow before retorting, "You weren't answering your phones." The male chuckled sheepishly, straightening his white coat, "Well, I'm Dr. Ink. It's nice to meet you." He offered his pen tipped hand, "You can call me Six if you want." The larger accepted the handshake, "I'll keep it casual; it's my job and all." He then straightened and explained, "There's been noise complaints, like I said, and families aren't getting in touch with their loved ones."

"Yes, about that…" He opened the door further. "Here, come in." He guided him into the front room were a group of orderlies were standing, talking with one another. As Eight entered one of them lowered his head and hurried off, muttering something to himself. The Guard shrugged it off as Six explained, "You see, our phone's been out, and recently we've had a slew of new patients joining us and they've been… Loud." He sighed a bit, "We've been trying a new method of rehabilitation, the give and take method, but progress is still slow."

"Is there anything that can be done?" Eight asked in confusion, "If there's too many patients can't you send them somewhere else?" Six shrugged the offer off, "Oh, we've had two hundred too many patients for a few years now, but we have to keep them so we'll get more funding." Six casually remarked before gritting a bit bitter in his tone. "It's all about money, not healing." Eight stared at him before Six suddenly got a blank look, "You know… This new method- Would you like to see it? I know that the Leader is probably curious, but the press can't get involved yet."

"…Alright." Eight agreed; it was his job to check it out after all, "It better be good, though… From what you said less than two minutes ago it sounds like this place is falling apart." The doctor cracked a smile. "Yeah… Well, this way please." He began to lead the larger male down the hall into the east wing where many of the patient rooms resided. "All of these people suffer from horrible diseases." He explained, "And did horrible things, like binding people and holding them against their will, slander, being difficult; so we have a restraint system. They restrain others so we restrain them."

Looking inside through the windows Eight could see in every room there was at least one Stitchpunk bound to a bed or wrapped in a jacket. "Isn't that a little much?" He offered and Six hesitated, "For some… But it's the method!" He desperately explained, "One is treated based off what they have done so that they know what they did wrong." Eight felt the door only to realize it was unlocked. "You restrain them but left the door unlocked? Aren't they just, you know, going to walk out?" Dr. Ink smiled, "Oh, some escape, yes… But then we hide the file and tell the authorities that we never heard of them."

As he led Eight further the Guard was starting to realize something was wrong here. As they passed a hysterical orderly he started to wonder if he should have left. At this time Six led him into a medical ward and now Eight was even more disturbed by what he saw. About ten Stitchpunks were here, babbling on beds and in chairs, heads lulling back and forth. "These inmates have been known to drug others to keep them under their will. As such, they are alternated between being medicated and being restrained, so they know that their methods didn't work."

The striped male chuckled dryly, "Now the Ink and Scroll method is simply the best! Look! Not only are the treated, but they learn what they did wrong!" Eight stayed silent as he followed the doctor deeper into the asylum. He wasn't exactly sure where they were when they opened into a room of tubs. "These are the ice bath treatments! These patients accidently drowned a person in an ice bath just like this, so now we teach them by having them repeatedly dunked under the water." Eight was starting to lose his edge as he watched the Stitchpunks get mercilessly treated.

"I, uh… This is nice and all, but I need to head back." He tried to separate himself, but Six was insistent. "Just one room left! Trust me, you don't want to miss it." His tone was lower and they continued along the hall into a back room. This one was a much smaller room that was empty of everything, just a padded room. "This is the 'room'. Bad patients go in here, the ones that try to escape." Eight started to step inside when the door slammed behind him. Dread filled him and he spun around, exhibiting a mix of fear and alarm that came out as frustration. "What are you doing?!"

Six smiled at him, "Relax. I just wanted you to see what it feels like." He chuckled a little, almost darkly, and leaned towards the little window. "Could you imagine being trapped in there all of the time?" Eight stared at him with a blank look. There were hundreds of radars and lights going off in his head. Something was wrong and he had a feeling that this wasn't going to end pleasantly. "No… I couldn't…" He answered almost meekly and Six smiled through the window. "Nobody's escaped yet… That's why this room is empty now." He explained in a soft tone.

"Yeah, well… I need to get back." Eight explained to Six who quipped in, "You know, a normal patient wouldn't be able to leave." He started to slowly close the window and Eight sputtered, "Don't shut that window." He commanded, but it was closed and Eight hurried to the door, trying to open it but finding that it was locked tight. Panic started to overtake him as he backed a few steps away. He ran his hands over his head, "This has got to be some sort of joke. This has- This can't be- This has got to be a joke!" There was a silence before he banged at the door.

"Come on, Doc, this isn't fun!" Eight called out through the padded door. He continued banging until there was a sudden click. He stared for a second as the door creeped open, revealing Six's face beaming with a wide, amused smile. Eight immediately shoved through with a growl, "That wasn't funny!" Six seemed quite amused, however, "Were you really thinking I was just going to lock you in there?!" He quipped and the larger male still gave a firm look. "Look, the method works both ways. I was really just trying to let you see what it would be like if you were locked in there."

"Yeah, I get it, teaching through showing method." Eight was still annoyed, but a small part of him still felt eerie, and he still wanted to leave sooner than later. "Well… I guess I understand better now… Seems like it's pretty bad living here if you're crazy." Six nodded sadly, "It is… But you get to leave, right? So that's a good thing! Here, I'll show you back to the door." At the front of the asylum Six sent Eight off with a smile, "Thank you for stopping by, and if you ever need anything feel free to step in!" Eight agreed before asking, "But the noise complaint?"

"Consider it taken care of! The phone calls too!" The doctor beamed and shook Eight's hand, "I… I hope we get to meet again… Maybe I'll come find you at some point." Eight wasn't sure what he meant by that but agreed and left. He later turned in his report on the situation and all was fine… Until about a week later. When One abruptly took into Eight's office with a look of alarm on his face. "Eight, you went to the asylum?" He demanded to the Guard who straightened in his chair, "Course I did, Boss. You got my papers, right?"

"Have you seen the news?!" The Leader asked abruptly, not answering the question. "Uh… No…" Eight got a cold feeling inside again as One explained, "The inmates overtook the staff and have been wandering around unattended in the asylum for the last few weeks doing Creator knows what!" The Guard was baffled until he caught the keywords, "Wait, you said-." One nodded, "Yes… Weeks… Did you notice anything odd with the staff while you were there?... Eight?" But Eight didn't have the ability to answer.

* * *

"Later he called in to see if the doctor existed." Six explained cryptically, "…But they didn't know anyone by the name and anything left of the papers were… Ashes." He finished with and after a few moments there was a round of clapping from everyone in the group. In a way the Artist felt triumphant, but that ego quickly softened into shock when he noticed that, in fact, Eight was clapping as well and looked generally impressed. Six quickly sat back down, now beside Five on a book and near Eight, looking towards Seven. "Your turn!" He chirped pleasantly.

"Well, let's see…" Seven pondered for a few minutes before continuing, "I'd like to tell you a fairy tale." There was a skeptical look from Eight. "A fairy tale? Those aren't scary… Except for that one with the stick in the bag. I could see that getting a few nightmares out." He remarked and she corrected. "That's because a lot of dark fairy tales were made lighter over the years. That's why Red Riding Hood no longer eats grandmother." One sputtered and stood, heading over to the twins, "Now don't put that into their heads! You know they catalogue everything."

While One was being oddly fussy over the twins Nine encouraged with a smile, "Well, I want to hear it! I'd like a scary fairy tale; it's definitely going to be different than the ones we heard already." In a way the zippered male seemed too eager, but not just because it was Seven, who smiled, "This… Is a cautionary tale… I think it was one made for woman who were hurried off to be married, trying to warn them of the dangers of when something is too good to be true." She explained to the eager group, "So it's my turn to pass it on. The name of the fairy tale is 'The White Dove'."

* * *

Once upon a time there has been a wealthy and noble aristocrat. He was a robust being with a tall stature, a broad chest, and a bread of yarn that hung in knots from his face. He was both envied and hated by all who passed him; envied for his vast fortune and his extensive property, and yet despised at the same time. Mostly for his arrogance; he was known to challenge men to duals for wealth or property and would refuse to back down until the challenge was met. Every time he would either slay or lame the other male and every time his hoard would grow.

This atrocious man was known as Bluebeard, and he was looking for a specific challenger. It was said that the son of the Blacksmith, and avid fighter and hunter, had returned from his travels and was now living with his family. Bluebeard could only assume that someone like this would have a wealth of treasure with him and wanted nothing more than to claim it for himself. Yet as he arrived at the Blacksmith's the elderly father insisted that his son wasn't there. "He only stayed the night and left again." He reassured, but Bluebeard wasn't won.

"Do you take me as a fool? He wouldn't have simply left! I want a duel with him and if I don't get it then I will have to challenge you instead." The old man was surely not able to fight, but suddenly another Stitchpunk approached. Bluebeard expected it to be the son, but instead he met a lovely female with white fabric and a dove on her finger. "He's telling the truth. My brother already left before sunrise." Bluebeard was immediately taken by the female and his tone softened, "Oh, I see. That's a shame."

He continued to recite false pleasantries until the female left to take her dove back in. At this time he faced the old man and announced that he wanted her as his bride. "I have never seen a woman as close to a dove in my lifetime. I wish to marry her and if so I will forget the duel." The old man didn't want to agree, but the daughter, Seven, had heard from inside and knew she would have to. She wouldn't let the man hurt her family. When her father confronted her Seven insisted, "I will go with him and marry him. I have to, or he'll terrorize you instead."

The old man was terrified, "But, my dear, you've heard of his many past wives! Never to be seen again!" Seven shook her head, "Oh Father! That is an old wives tale. I suspect he gets bored of his wives and sends them away when he finds another. I may be sparing another poor woman of her current situation as we speak." The father tried to persuade her, but Seven was determined, and went with Bluebeard to his home where they were soon wed. At first life with Bluebeard was uneventful and typical.

Bluebeard spent many days out and Seven would stay at his large manor, tending to her pet dove and exploring what she could. Suspiciously she couldn't find one sign of his past wives and he never mentioned them. In fact, Bluebeard didn't tend to mention anything about his past, even when Seven would ask him. She, meanwhile, was waiting for when he would get bored and she could leave, only staying for her father's sake. However, one day things abruptly changed, and Bluebeard planned to leave for a few days.

"My Dove wife, here are the keys to the home." He handed her a large keyring. "I trust you now to go wherever you like into my treasury… Except for the bottom room in the home, at the bottom of the stairs. Do not go into that room no matter what." Seven nodded, "I will not. Be safe on your trip." Her sweet and concerned smile hid a curiosity and she knew, at once, that she would go and look. She waited until the evening when she was certain that he would return and went to check the rooms.

There she found multiple rooms of his treasures that he had collected over the years. Seven scowled at the gold; she knew Bluebeard had got them through underhanded tactics. She then found an armor and weapon filled room and admired what was there before continuing down the stairs to the door. Immediately she noticed something strange on the floor outside the crack of the door. There was what looked like an oil stain dried on the floor. She felt a dread seeing it, but regardless unlocked the keyhole and pushed open the door into the dimly lit room.

Regardless through the darkness she could see what looked like a dungeon and inside were multiple bodies. Some stacked in the corners, some simply lying there, and one looking like it had been stopped while crawling towards the door. Seeing the closest body Seven realized, with dread, that it was wearing an old, tattered wedding dress. These were the bodies of his past wives. Seven was suddenly grabbed with terror. She shut the door again and struggled with the lock, only to have the key fall onto the dried oil, getting a flake of black on its golden exterior.

Seven grabbed it and stopped attempting to lock the door before climbing the stairs. "He murdered them all!" Seven gasped in terror, "I… I have to leave this place… I'll leave in the morning. I'll bring evidence and bring the entire village if I have to!" She was determined and after this headed to bed. Yet in the early morning she was awoken by a strange noise outside and looked out the window to see that Bluebeard had returned. She didn't have a chance to run, she had to greet him at the door with the keys.

Unfortunately there was a speck of oil on the key that she couldn't get off and upon seeing it he knew and looked upon her with sadness. "You went into the room…" She tried to protest, "I went outside the room, but I didn't open the door, I promise. I simply dropped the keys." He didn't believe her and drew a sword, advancing on her, "I'm sorry, my wife. If only you wouldn't have looked, like the others did." Seven was horrified, but cleverly stalled, "Very well. Do with me what you must, as I can't fight back. Please just give me enough time to pray and put on my wedding gown."

He thought at her begging and then nodded, "Very well. It is tradition." She hurried off to the bedroom. Unfortunately, she couldn't escape from there, but she had another idea and released her dove. She commanded it to fly to the front of the mansion and coo. As it flew off she got dressed and by time she got back to the foyer Bluebeard heard the noises. "What is that? Is that your bird?" Seven mock gasped, "No, no. My bird is asleep in the bedroom. That must be my brother's bird!"

She continued to weave a tale, "My brother and I have matching birds. He sends his ahead to warn of his arrival, I the same, so he must be coming!" Bluebeard growled and headed towards the front door with a growl. "Wait here." He shut the door and locked it. Seven, meanwhile, hurried into the mansion deeper, having no intention of escaping. After a while Bluebeard realized that the brother was not coming and headed back inside to find his wife missing.

He locked the door, checked the bedroom, checked the dining room, and checked everywhere before getting to the two rooms and the stairs. He peeked into both the treasury and armory which had their doors slightly agape, but couldn't see her. Then he headed down the stairs to the dungeon door, which was unlock. "Then she's hiding in here! Good, then I won't need to move her." He swung open the door and took a step inside, looking over the many bodies dressed in wedding dresses. They were all his wives, but not one was Seven.

It was then that he suddenly felt a blade pressing into his back and turned around to see none other than Seven standing there, a sword in her hand. He laughed at her, "Aye, Lass, what are you doing with that?! You don't know how to wield a blade!" He swung at her and she struck back, slicing his arm deep. She then struck his wrist, knocking his blade free and turning hers on his chest. "You see, _Love,_ we both have secrets. For there was never a brother. I am an only child; the hunter who wields my father's blades is I!"

She stared him down, "And now I will strike you down where you struck down all of these woman!" Then with a fatal swing she lopped off Bluebeard's head.

* * *

"Good Creator!" One blurted out, preparing to leap at the twins once more, but everyone ignored him. Seven seemed amused by it and continued, "With that, the murderous reign of Bluebeard ended. His final wife was welcome to his treasure, some she kept and the rest she gave out to the families of the wives that she could find. Yet she refused to live in the mansion and it was left to weather and wear until it was nothing more than a bad memory. It wasn't exactly a 'Happily Ever After', but many people were saved from Bluebeard, so that was something to be happy about."

She was rewarded with a round of clapping by the others once more. Seven gave a playful bow and the twins eagerly flickered their optics happily. It was now when Eight stood, "Alright, my turn." Two playfully nudged One. "And you were afraid that Seven would scar the twins." One was about to quietly and lightly scold him when Eight chimed in, "Oh, I plan to do much more than that!" A small smirk passed his lips and he continued, "Some things aren't child's play, and this isn't one of 'em. The story's called; Clowning Around."

* * *

It was a late night and Eight was tired after a long day. He collapsed onto his sofa and rested wearily against it. Out of all the odd jobs he took this had definitely been the hardest as it involved hours of excessive labor under the sun. He had to take what he could, though. Eight hadn't had an actual stable career in years and while the temp jobs were difficult he felt better doing them. Today was just a hard day, he deduced, and stretched out on his couch to relax. For a little while he was simply glad to be home.

It wasn't until a little later that he was alerted by a knock on his door. He was just about to fall asleep when it interrupted him and he slowly drug himself upwards before crossing to it. Lazily he unlocked and opened it, leaving the chain shut but soon finding that he didn't need to. There was nobody outside. At first Eight wondered if he had simply been too slow to answer the door, which seemed like a weird suggestion. Yet as he looked downwards he noticed a wrapped present waiting on the doorstep. Suspiciously he undid the chain and took the gift before shutting the door back.

He dropped the gift onto the coffee table and collapsed onto his sofa to eye it. This was strange; it wasn't anywhere near his birthday or any other Holiday worth getting gifts for. In fact, the closest thing was Halloween, and for that he became weary that it was a prank. He undid the purple wrapping and opened the box to see what was inside. There was a bow tie setting inside. It was a pale blue and had a few rainbow colored stripes along the edges and center. As Eight lifted it he realized that the string on the back was broken and stained brown with old mud.

"What the…?" Eight blinked at the item, staring at its dusty appearance, and looked past to see a card underneath. It was a simple card that had a vase on it with flowers and said 'Happy Anniversary' underneath. He opened the card only to read, _"To another wonderful year, may I get to see many more with you."_ Underneath that was scrawled in pen, " _Clown._ " Suddenly Eight felt a chill pass along his spine and he suddenly shoved the box off of the coffee table in alarm. "Just a bad joke." He insisted and stood, massaging over his head, "A really bad joke."

Quickly stood and started to turn and head into the kitchen. He decided to heat some leftovers to eat and then head to bed quickly, trying to smother the thought of that being anything more than a coincidence. " _That bow tie looked familiar… Was it the same?"_ He shook his head quickly, " _Stop it, Eight, pull yourself together."_ He sat down at the dining room table and began to eat, " _Maybe I should call One… He's probably awake still."_ He glanced towards the phone only to look past it out the window.

For a split second he could see a hulking figure standing right outside, wide and tall enough that the window only showed a section of its front. As quickly as it was there it was gone, and Eight was stuck with a blurry memory of yellow and blue. He shot upwards and hurried over to stare outside, but saw nothing. _"What the hell? Was that a clown?!"_ The Guard hesitated before exhaling and shutting the blinds, "Pull it together, Eight. Nothing would've moved that fast. You're mind's messing with you." He went to the other window and checked, no being.

Eight hesitantly started to eat again and was seriously considering calling One, but finally decided just to go to bed. He checked over the house and crossed into the living room one last time only to grab the box, card, and bow tie to dump into the trash can. He headed back into his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. It was a weekend coming so he wasn't planning on waking early in the morning. He pulled off his things and went to set them on the dresser only to hear a noise echoing through the house. It was a knocking from the front door.

He leaned out of his bedroom and stared down the hall; the knocking continued. He turned the corner and stared at the front door; the knocking continued. It was a short while later when the knocking finally ceased and the larger approached the door. He made sure both of the locks were locked. There was no way he was opening the door, and yet curiosity was overtaking, so he entered the living room to look through the window. There didn't seem to be anyone outside anymore, but there was something else, a slip of paper.

The door was opened only a crack and Eight scooted the paper in with his foot. He then slammed the door shut and locked it tightly. The paper was a simple white slip torn off from a larger piece of paper, but there was something scribbled on it. _"We should have a party to celebrate. Come outside and join me."_ Eight winced visibly and peered out of the living room door, but saw nothing yet again. "This is wrong. Something's wrong here." He crushed the paper in his hand and tossed it into the trash, "Damn it…"

Rubbing his face again he hurried into his room. "That was a mistake. Opening the door just showed him that I was still awake." He opened the bedroom door and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and locking it. He collapsed onto the bed and slept for a few hours. Occasionally he awoke to a knocking or a scratching noise, but he pointedly ignored it. Until the phone started to ring. Finally he climbed out of bed, in a daze from sleep, hoping that it was One or Two or someone worth talking to.

" _Please just let it be someone needing a ride. Night or not, I got to get out of this house."_ He lifted the phone, "Hello?" There was a chuckling on the other side, lighter and crackly. "Who is this?" There was still laughter and Eight looked out the window, "Look, if this is the guy leaving things outside my house, it's a cute little trick but you need to move on." There was an eerie silence before the voice quietly murmured, "Look to your left." Eight glanced to the left from the window to the area beside the fence only to grow cold and still.

There stood the figure looming on the grass. It was a clown, no denying that. It was what it was wearing that disturbed Eight; the familiar color scheme that was beginning to take its toll. He stepped back out of dread until he could only barely see the clown, unable to stare at full force. It was his height, his weight, his proportions, and his smile staring back at him. " _You know, Clowns are supposed to make people happy."_ The voice on the phone quipped and Eight blurted out, "If you don't get out of here I'm calling the cops!"

The clown wasn't holding a phone, but Eight assumed the two were working together. "Or better yet, I'm getting my knife, my just sharpened knife, and I'm coming out there myself!" There was a low chuckling that seemed to get deeper and deeper before finally ending with a click. The call was over and Eight stood there staring at the clown. For a short while they were in a stalemate before Eight made a dash for his bedroom. He didn't want to lose sight of the clown, but he had to get his weapon, and grabbed it from his bedroom before hurrying back out into the hall.

In only that short amount of time something had changed horribly. Looking towards the Living Room he could see the lights on and peering in it was obvious that it was trashed. This had to have happened before he awoke, he assumed, but the writings on the wall were too terrifying to make him care. _"Keep your eyes on the road."_ Was scribbled repeatedly on the white walls in a tarry substance, circling the room, teasing Eight. It was obvious that the clown and the person on the phone knew about what had happened. It wasn't a coincidental prank, they were coming after him for a reason.

That was why the clown was wearing his old clown costume. That was why the clown looked like him. It knew what he did.

Eight could see that the front door was open and knew that the clown might have gotten inside. He slammed it shut, locked it tight, and turned his back on it so that he could scan more of the house. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first and he headed into the dining room and kitchen, looking outside only to find the clown gone. There was no doubt in his mind that it was now inside with him. As he started towards the bedroom he noticed the lights inside were dead now.

He kicked open the door further only for it to get stuck on something. "What?" Eight asked before the hulking figure appeared from behind the door. There the clown faced him. Its optics were wide and filled with black emptiness that rolled down its face, over the wide smile on its face. For a second Eight was actually taken aback by how much this thing both resembled himself and yet didn't look like a Stitchpunk at all. He took a hesitant step back and tried to aim his knife forward, even though it was increasingly difficult in the tightened space.

The clown, in return, brought its giant hands forward. The fingers were like sharp knives as it made a grab at the Guard who lightly stabbed forward. It cut through part of the arm and blackness spilled out, but the clown seemed unbothered. Knowing he was in a bad situation Eight continued to backtrack down the hall and towards the back door. The clown started to gain, moving quicker every time Eight stumbled, large blade hands raised. Eight finally got into the kitchen and had enough room to slice forward through one of the arms.

It didn't cut like an arm; it cut like it was simply ballooned out fabric and black liquid gushed out afterwards. The smell was awful and eight didn't want to breathe it in. Instead he opened the backdoor and rushed out into the backyard, soon being followed by the clown that hobbled a bit from the shift in weight. Now on the grass it leapt forwards and swung towards Eight, slicing across his chest. It caught and tore one of his buckle halves clear off. Eight cried out briefly until managing to suppress the yell, trying not to give the clown the joy of hearing him in pain.

The clown began a peal of disturbing and shaky laughter. In a sudden surge of will Eight swung forward again, slicing through the clown's front and tearing its other arm off. It was almost as though it was a balloon, as it began to deflate. The clown lulled before sinking onto its back, spilling the blackness on the grass. Eight inched a bit closer as he panted. Part of him wanted to celebrate a victory, but the other part knew that this couldn't be it, this couldn't be over. He was right too.

A sharp fingered hand burst through the clown's front and grabbed onto the fabric. Slowly it started to drag its body out, another arm coming free, along with a tuft of yarn hair. Eight dropped the knife in the grass. "No…" The shorter being stood, its body limply rising out of the clown. "No, no, this- You- You can't be-!" Eight took a few steps back in horror as the mismatched optics met his.

" _Damn…" Eight swore as he ripped off the wig and tossed it into the back. Being a clown wasn't a rewarding job, even if it was a part-time job at best. One of the kids had dropped an entire bowl of ice cream on his front. He grabbed a napkin out of the glovebox as he partially watched the road, dabbing the wet mixture. Hopefully he could get some of it off before it dried and stained the fabric. Seeing the road open he looked down at his suit and began to rub at it. "This is going to be hard to get out. Great." He looked upwards just in time to see the mismatched optics in front of his car._

 _Then there was the agonizing thump._

Eight knew he couldn't run forever. He had ran that day from the scene, hadn't been seen, hadn't been caught, and smothered the guilt by forgetting what he could. Yet here he was, the Stitchpunk he had hit on the road, the Stitchpunk who he knew was supposed to be dead. It looked to him with empty optics and a wide smile. "Hi, _clown._ It's nice to see you, _clown._ Maybe now we can have some fun. Right, _clown?"_ With that he started to drag himself forward, his body moving wrongly, like a puppet teetering on wooden joints.

Without another thought, Eight ran back towards the house, stumbling inside and dashing down the hall. He had escape, but as he tried the door he found it stuck. "You're not leaving me again…" He looked back in time to see the Stitchpunk move through the wall, leaving a trail of black sludge and approaching. Eight pressed back against the door as the sharp fingered hand reached for his chest.

* * *

"Never found him." Eight explained, "And never found any evidence of what happened. Was it a ghost? Was it the guy he hit? Or was it the guilt that grew after he did something wrong and didn't get caught, becoming something alive and evil?" He asked this and fell silent. There were a few moments before the clapping began. "Eight, that was… That was terrifying!" Two praised, "Well done! I mean, well done to everyone, but you thought that through, you wanted to scare us! I'm very impressed!"

Eight sent him a smile, "Learned from the best. Eh, Two?" The Inventor seemed pleased. In fact, everyone seemed pleased about the night and stories, all except for one. Five noticed it first, how slowly Nine was clapping and how quiet he was as he stared towards the fire. "Nine?" He asked softly, "Nine, if you don't have a story you can have some more time." He offered and now the others were noticing and confused. The zippered male bit his lip and looked to his best friend, then to the others waiting.

"I've been thinking of a story and… I decided to tell one that I heard long ago, before I was born." This was an alarming suggestion. "What?" Seven dared to break in, "Nine, what are you talking about?" The zippered male insisted further. "I hadn't met any of you yet or woke the Machine, or saw the Cat Beast, or anything at all." One furrowed his brows, "Nine, that doesn't make sense." The Stitchpunks were now growing more confused and Nine forced a playful smile.

"So I guess it's time for my story. It's… A little different, but maybe you'll get a scare out of it. It's not… Like any of yours. It's different in a way, but I can't tell you how until the end." The others nodded. The twins eagerly moved closer and sat on the floor to watch. Nine sent them smiles and stood to tell his story, "My story… Doesn't have a name really, but the place itself I refer to as 'The Before'."

* * *

 _The Before is a realm beyond ours. It is Before life and incompatible with death. When death or life enters the Before when they are not supposed to they are stuck in an endless loop of wandering, and what they see there is nightmarish. The reason for this is, to my belief, that the Before is meant only for souls who haven't yet lived. Thus they don't recognize what they're seeing or even have a sense of feeling there. Many souls pass through the Before not knowing they were even there as they begin their life out in the world._

 _Humans used to pass through here and now Stitchpunks do as well. Again, though, sentient souls who have awakened shouldn't exist in the Before. There's a reason why, but I'll get into that later. I'm not sure what brings access into the Before; the closest guess would be a misfire at birth or perhaps a sudden death. As such there's no way to naturally see this world willingly and then escape in one piece. The world looks close to our own with only slight changes to it._

 _At first the Before looked very similar to the normal world. Of course, if you get there like I did you wouldn't know that, but everything is slightly off. Usually the colors are muted to a grayscale and in some areas fluctuate into orange hues or sepia tones. Almost like an old camera. You will glow with the color of your soul which will usually alight some of the surrounding area, but the color doesn't move as far. This is a good thing; your soul makes you more visible to the things in the Before._

 _Another thing worth mentioning is that all wording is distorted. When you are on the edges of the Before it will be written backwards. The deeper you go, the more it becomes illegible, eventually to the point where words look like scribbles. It seems like a minor thing, but this is actually a good way to figure out how deep you are in. It's best to find a slip of paper and use it like a compass to get out. From what I know, this is the only way to get out. Keep your paper with you and if you lose it immediately find something else._

 _There is also no outside. The windows are all missing and the buildings are all connected. Almost like a patchwork quilt they're crammed together; leading to furniture being half fused or broken. These buildings don't move but contain many corridors, so it is worth going slow and watching for hiding spots along the way. If you hear something then it is best to immediately hide. There is little noise in this realm so when you do hear it this usually means that something is nearby and might be alerted to your light. Between the shadow and the gray it is hard to see. Don't take any chances._

 _Now you're probably wondering what exactly it is in this realm. They almost resemble humans with the color drained out of them, along with the life. They have a shriveled appearance and their skin flakes gray, like ash. Usually it can be seen on the ground where it dissipates. If you see any ash, run, they're nearby. What is most disturbing about these creatures are their faces. Gaunt, with pale skin, and large black holes for eyes and a mouth. They aren't just holes in the face either, they're holes into nothingness, blackness that can't be seen through._

 _They will see your light and come for you slowly. While this doesn't seem threatening at first, they are human sized and they will be able to follow you anywhere if they've seen you once. Others will join them too. They'll brush against each other as they walk, shedding the flaky dust off of themselves. These beings will stop at nothing to get to you and what they do then… Is completely unknown… Remember, normal souls aren't supposed to be in this realm, so if you're unlucky enough to find yourself here then you can't take any chances._

 _It's simple enough to believe that these are trapped human souls. Somehow left here to decay and disappear. It's unclear how they got caught here, but they are a danger. They no longer feel anything or act intelligent, and there is no way to safely communicate with them without them ruthlessly dogging your heels._

 _Now we get to the most important step; escaping the Before. Use the words as a guide and continue through the maze of buildings. Direction isn't as important as following the note, so you shouldn't concern about how many levels down you go. There isn't a top or a bottom so you will keep going. It gets darker the further you get in and once the words are almost entirely garbled it is incredibly difficult to see. You will not find light sources; all of the light in this place just originates from nothing. If it gets brighter then you are getting closer to the exit._

 _Eventually if you follow the signs you make it to the way out. I call this place 'the Window'. Many buildings open into this wide room; it's an immediate contrast with its stone ceiling and floor. The decaying beings cannot enter this room and once you find it you are almost safe. 'Almost' depending on your placement in the room. What I'm about to say is mostly speculation, but I have no doubt that it is the truth. You see, the window is actually two pools, one on the roof and one on the floor. Because of this, only the one on the floor is accessible._

 _One is pitch black, like oil or ink, and the other one is a clear, translucent green color. It's my belief that whichever side you appear on, the side with the green pool or the side with the black, leads you to whatever fate you are in. Either is better than existing forever in the Before, but the black pool leads to death, and maybe an afterlife, and the green pool leads to life and birth…. Let's say you're on the side with the green pool. You climb inside and will sink in until your head is covered. Then everything will stop._

 _When you awaken you will have been born. Since you would have to be matured to see this and not a Pup you will usually remember what happened like it was a dream or nightmare. My final warnings are as followed: Try not to seek this play out. Avoid getting involved in alternate realms altogether and don't try to summon deceased human souls. If you get stuck on the other side of the window you might never make it out of the Before alive… Or at all._

* * *

"Now, that might not have been that scary." Nine added in quickly before any of the others could speak. "But there's actually a significant difference to this story that the others didn't have… And I… I have a confession." Nine's confidence seemed to deteriorate rather quickly, "I had an ulterior motive for having you all tell scary stories. I was hoping, you know, if I got scared it would be festive and… And maybe one of you would describe something like what happened to me." There was an odd silence. Then Five dared to ask, "Nine, are you saying-?"

"It's a true story." Nine admitted, "It's a true place. Those were real things I saw before I was born all the way. For a long while I just ignored it, but Halloween caused memories to resurface, and I started trying to figure out more about it. Look, to be honest the point of tonight was to scare me with something else so that I wouldn't think about it, or it wouldn't seem as bad. Just something…" The fire suddenly felt rather cold and Two moved to sit by him. His concern was evident on his face as Nine slowly started to sit on the book once more.

"Nine, you… My boy, why didn't you say something? You didn't have to keep this to yourself this long!" He gestured to the others, "What we told were just stories! This is much more serious, this is something that's obviously bothered you deeply!" the younger nodded and One added in, struggling to make sense, "Could it have just been a nightmare?" Six quipped in now, "They seem really real sometimes!" He smiled encouragingly and Nine smiled back, but shot him down, "No… It was too real to be a dream."

"Whatever it is, it's over now." Seven tried to convince, "Nine, you're safe here, with us. The Beasts, the Machine, those… Those things, they can't get you here. We'd make sure of it." She encouraged fully and Eight nodded, "Especially since they're turning to dust… So, just to be clear, this isn't some sort of prank, is it?" A few Stitchpunks gave him weary looks and Nine shivered a bit, "Trust me, I wish it was. Until this day I still don't know what that place, the Before, truly was. I don't know if those were real human souls either."

"Maybe it's best not knowing." One added in with his own look of disturbance and Five agreed, "Right. We couldn't do anything anyway. It's just… We can't worry about the unknown. Or the partially known." He put a friendly arm around the zippered male's back. "And… I know this probably isn't the best time, but I think you topped out the scary stories with that one!" The Guard dared to add in, "I don't know. That's creepy being real and all, but I don't know if it can top Two's chair." This got a peal of laughter out of Two himself, glad the mood was easing.

"Well, what a night!" He continued with. "Quite a Halloween, at least." He looked over to see Three rubbing her optics and Four yawning into her hand. "But unfortunately it looks like it's about time for bed." Both Nine and Six oddly tensed at the prospect. Six then followed by crossing to Nine and sitting beside him, holding onto his arm in a reassuring, and yet a need to be reassured, way. Seven stood to gather the twins, coaxing them to their feet. "Come on, girls. Let's get you both into bed." One stood as well with Eight loyally following suit.

"Wait!" Nine broke out, "The night doesn't have to be over on my account. It's still Halloween and it won't come again for another year." He was desperate and One responded. "Halloween or not, it is late. The twins are not fit to stay awake any later." The two did look tired. "We can stay down here." Six offered to the group, moving to grasp his key. Two's face alit with interest, "We could, couldn't we? We could get the extra blankets and stay around the fire for the night."

The others seemed to like the idea immediately and the tired twins nodded vigorously in agreement. The only one who looked willing to argue was One who pursed his lips, imagining the discomfort of sleeping on the floor. However, when the all seemed to suddenly turn to him, awaiting a protest, he found it more fitting not to meet their expectation. "Very well. If only for a night." The twins were delighted at this and Seven smiled at their excitement, "Don't get too riled. We're staying down here to sleep, not play."

She started off towards the lift, "I'll go get some of the blankets." Five hopped to his feet as well, "I'll help you." He gave Nine a reassuring pat on the shoulder, as though signaling that he was going to assist him, and headed off. As such Nine didn't stand and waited there with Six, the twins, and One. Eight headed off as well, "Should I grab the spare or the stuff off your bed?" He offered to One who responded thankfully with, "Just the spare. That should be enough." Oddly enough, Eight then looked to Six, "I'll grab your stuff too. You have a spare?"

Six was surprised by the offer and sputtered, "I… No." The Guard shrugged and continued with, "I'll just grab the one off of your bed. Or maybe I've got a spare or something." He started to head off and Six looked to Nine, "He… He offered to get me something?" Nine gave a cheeky smile, "He must have been so impressed with your story that it shocked him into suggestion." This got a smile out of Six as well and Nine leaned back a bit, staring at the fire.

Maybe he was a little fearful after everything, but in a way there was a good feeling inside as well. Two moved to sit beside him with his own delight lingering, "This was a great idea, Nine. It's seldom we've been able to really celebrate human holidays in a productive way, but I think this has been a lot of fun!" The younger smiled and the older added in, "And, Nine, if it makes you feel better, you don't ever see it again." The zipper male's smile wavered, "What?"

Two nodded and explained, "That place, the Before as you call it, you don't see it a second time. Even if, per say, your soul leaves your body. You don't see it again." Nine was alarmed at the revelation, but instead of questioning more he simply asked, "Are you sure?" Two nodded with an assuring smile and rubbed the younger's back. In a way, Nine was starting to feel a bit better. As the others returned he helped fix the bedding with them. This was a Halloween that they were sure to repeat next year.

 _ **FIN**_

* * *

 **Mable: And there we are! Here's some quick facts for the interested;  
One's story was based on the Dracula formula with inspiration from a Twilight Zone story.  
Two's story was based off of the manga 'The Human Chair' and the urban legend of the dead body under the bed.  
Three and Four's story is based off of classic ghost stories, in particular one based in a farmhouse that I heard when I was young.  
Five's story was based off of the spider bite urban legend, where the spiders come from the bite wound.  
Six's story is based off of 'The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether', an Edgar Allen Poe story.  
Seven's story is a retelling of the fairy tale 'Bluebeard', one of the versions being named 'the White Dove'.  
Eight's story is a mix off of a stalker story, a vengeful ghost story, and an evil clown tale.  
Nine's story is inspired by ritual or location based Creepypastas, and was by far the hardest to write.  
Nine's was especially difficult because it had to be something that would be creepy, but be somewhat plausible in the same go, while the others could go whichever the Stitchpunk storyteller wanted them to. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed, and I hope everyone has a safe and a happy Halloween!**


End file.
